


far too great a toll it's played on me (the animals of destiny)

by greeksalad



Series: ah yes, sapphics (avatar wlw week) [5]
Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/F, Gen, Healing, Minor Angst, Post-War, Yue (Avatar) Lives, tw: brief suicidal ideation, yueki are the cool aunts and we all know it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:33:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26281984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greeksalad/pseuds/greeksalad
Summary: Moonlight trickles through a thin gap in the shutters and spills across the floor like molten silver. The shine of it has caught Yue’s gaze and then refused to let it go; she’s been staring at it for Spirits-knows how long, at this point.
Relationships: Background Sokka/Zuko, Izumi & Yue, Suki/Yue (Avatar)
Series: ah yes, sapphics (avatar wlw week) [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1903480
Comments: 21
Kudos: 93





	far too great a toll it's played on me (the animals of destiny)

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: playing with children

Yue can’t sleep.

She doesn’t know the exact time, but Suki’s been asleep for at least an hour, her head tucked against the nape of Yue’s neck and one arm draped loosely over her hip. It’s a familiar touch – they sleep like that most nights, except for when they’re in the Fire Nation and it’s too hot to cuddle – but the sweet, casual intimacy of it has never lost its novelty.

Moonlight trickles through a thin gap in the shutters and spills across the floor like molten silver. The shine of it has caught Yue’s gaze and then refused to let it go; she’s been staring at it for Spirits-knows how long, at this point.

It’s a full moon tonight; even if she hadn’t seen the evidence for herself, she would’ve known instinctually. The ever-constant ache in her chest is somehow both eased and worsened by its presence; it’s a balm being smoothed over a wound and _stinging._

She stares, and the moon calls to her, an empty echo of a voice in the back of her skull, like the memory of a dream. The thing is, though, Yue can’t tell if the call is one of familiarity, a nostalgic greeting and soft _yes, I know you_ , or an expression of disappointment, of failure.

“Auntie Yue?”

Yue’s jolted out of her thoughts by the sound of the quiet voice, and, with considerable effort, she drags her gaze away from the moonlight and fixes it on the little girl standing in her doorway, looking adorably small in her oversized robes.

“Hey, Zooms,” she says softly, propping herself up on one elbow so she can get a better look at her. “Can’t sleep?”

Her niece shakes her head mutely. Yue thinks about all the assassination attempts on Izumi that Sokka’s told her about over the years, one of which ended with her attacker making it just inside her bedroom before the guards managed to take him down, and how Zuko once told her that Izumi is sometimes too anxious to sleep alone, and she thinks, _yeah, that makes sense._

(Ironically, most of the attempts on _Yue’s_ life came _after_ she abdicated her position as princess and heir. Her decision to join Aang in his travels after giving up the Moon Spirit hadn’t exactly been the most popular with the several tradition-focused extremists in the Northern Water Tribe.)

Quietly as she can, Yue swings her legs over the edge of the bed, trying to avoid jostling Suki, and slides out from between the sheets. The floorboards are cool against her bare feet. “Want some tea?”

\---

“-and then he stole _Druk’s treat_ out of my hand and _ate it_ because he thought it was jerky!” Izumi giggles, one hand clapped over her mouth in a truly terrible attempt at being quiet.

Yue laughs softly, something fond and sweet swelling in her chest. The stories of a child are pure, untarnished things, not yet blemished by prejudice or cynicism, and, to Yue, there are few things in life that bring her as much joy as hearing tales of her family, safe and happy, from the giggling lips of a child. She knows that none of them escaped the war unscathed; it’s been ten years, and yet their bodies are still littered with scars, each one telling a story of a lost childhood, and shadows still linger at the corners of their minds, digging their inky claws in and refusing to be shaken off, regardless of how brightly the sun shines. Still, seeing Izumi’s half-hearted attempts to smother her laughter, smiling despite the loss and the grief and the _pain_ of the last century, almost convinces Yue that everything could be fine one day.

Propping her elbows on the counter, she leans forward and theatre-whispers, “Did he throw up?”

Izumi shakes her head. Before she’d gone to bed, she’d demanded that Suki braid her hair back like Ty Lee’s (because, according to Sokka, Izumi’s in a phase where she thinks her “circus auntie” is the “baddest bitch around” – Sokka’s words, not hers) and the long plait bounces with the enthusiastic movement of her head.

“Nah,” Izumi says, and has to muffle another giggle behind her hand. Her eyes glint conspiratorially in the moonlight. “He just fell over and gagged a lot. I thought Baba was gonna vomit, though, ‘cos he was laughing so hard.”

Yue bites her lip to hold back an amused smile. “That sounds like them.”

Getting to her feet, she pads into the kitchen to check on their tea, her bare feet barely making a sound on their wooden floors. “And how’s Druk going?” she calls softly over her shoulder. “Does he know how to do a loop-de-loop yet?”

With her back towards Izumi, she can’t see the girl’s face, but she just _knows_ she’s pouting grumpily. The mental image makes her smile. “No! I keep trying to teach him, but he gets all confused and just tries to grab his treat out of my hand!”

“Just like Sokka,” Yue comments, and her heart goes all warm and fuzzy at Izumi’s resulting snort.

Carefully, she pours out their tea into two separate cups. It’s one that Iroh recommended to her a few years back – a delicate, lemony white tea that’s almost guaranteed to knock Suki out after a hard day of training – and, despite her best efforts, she’s never been able to make it as well as he did the first time she tried it.

Once again, Yue’s eyes drift to the moon. As if it were fate, it’s framed perfectly by the open window, filling the kitchen with silvery light and dramatic, sweeping shadows. _Look at me,_ it says. _Look at me, Yue._

For what feels like the millionth time, she wonders what her life would’ve been like if she hadn’t given up the Moon Spirit.

Normally, she doesn’t feel the absence of Tui _this_ keenly – the little hole in her soul aches, sure, but, much like how you fill a too-large shoe with old rags, it can be stuffed with her friends’ happy smiles and Suki holding her hand and late nights walking on the shore. Tonight, with the full moon out, that _little hole_ feels more like a gaping chasm. Yue feels like she’s standing on the edge of it, the only thing holding her up a crumbling ledge. _Falling would be easy,_ she thinks, with perhaps a little too much nonchalance, and she taps her fingers absently against the warm china of her teacup. _Inevitable, even._

Then, she looks around at her little house, at Suki’s favourite blanket draped across the sofa, at the fans and knives and Water Tribe furs hanging off the walls in a beautiful blend of lives, at Izumi, the product of a love that, only decades earlier, would’ve been _unfathomable,_ and she can’t help but feel that a little pain is worth all the happiness this life brings her.

“Hey, Izumi?” she asks, and this time taking her eyes off the moon feels a little easier. “Wanna go stargazing?”

Izumi’s eyes light up.

\---

The grass is a little damp against Yue’s back, but she can’t bring herself to mind too much. Izumi’s head is a comfortable weight on her shoulder, grounding in the face of the dizzying expanse of stars above them. Yue still finds the night skies here a little odd – after all, she’s used to a place where the night is more stars than actual sky, where the darkness is lit up with luminous blues and greens as the spirits dance across the horizon. Still, the stars are the same, no matter where you are in the world, and Yue’s known their tales since she was old enough to listen.

“See those three stars?” Yue murmurs, raising her hand to point. Izumi mimics her, and Yue catches her wrist gently, guiding her to point at the right spot. “Those are the three hunters, who chased a bear _so far_ that they ended up leaving the earth entirely and following it through the sky.”

“Could I ride Druk into the stars?” Izumi asks around a jaw-splitting yawn.

Yue smiles and pokes Izumi in the ribs, making her squirm. “I think he’s too little to ride on right now. Plus, who would pull pranks on your dads with me and Suki if you were up in the stars?”

Izumi seems to seriously consider this. “Good point,” she says solemnly. “What about… that one?” She points to a random cluster of twinkling stars.

“I think those are just stars, sweetheart,” Yue says. “But _those_ ones-” and she points up at another group of stars- “They’re the spirit of a polar bear dog called Nanurjuk. Look, can you see his tail?”

Izumi squints. “I think so. Why’s there- Oh, hey, Aunt Suki.”

Yue has to blink a few times to focus her eyes on Suki’s upside-down face that’s suddenly appeared over them. She looks sleepy and ruffled, like she’s just woken up, and she’s apparently repurposed their duvet as a shawl. Yue feels a little guilty about disturbing her rest until she notices her wife’s warm smile.

“I wondered where you two had gotten to,” Suki says by way of greeting, and flops down onto the grass next to them. Yue sits up, propping Izumi in her lap so that her head, which keeps lolling back in a way that suggests she’s going to fall asleep any second now, can rest comfortably against Yue’s shoulder. Suki immediately shuffles closer so she can lean against Yue’s free side. A warm, heavy weight settles over Yue’s shoulders; Suki’s thrown the blanket over the three of them.

“I’ve been teaching Zooms about the stars,” Yue says with a fond, slightly guilty smile.

“Sounds fun,” Suki says, eyes dancing mischievously, and Yue _knows_ she’s thinking about their first date all those years ago, when they’d stayed up late to watch the stars. Just as the sun had begun to rise, Yue had turned to face Suki and said, with fairly unsubtle reluctance, that they should go to bed. “There’s one thing I want to do first,” Suki had replied, and then she’d leaned over and planted a kiss on Yue’s surprised lips.

Snorting softly at the memory, Yue tilts her head and kisses Suki gently. Her lips are warm and a little chapped in the cool night air, and Suki gives a pleased little sigh against Yue’s mouth, one hand coming up to span across her jaw.

“Gross,” Izumi mumbles sleepily.

Suki jumps back like they’re teenagers who’ve been caught making out in a broom closet as opposed to a married couple pushing thirty, then huffs out a laugh. “It’s like having Toph around,” she says amusedly. Yue hums softly in agreement, but her attention’s been drawn back to the moon overhead.

It shines brightly, with no windows or walls to shield Yue from its call, and it _does_ hurt – of course it does. The scars of war don’t fade, even after a decade.

She reaches out and squeezes Suki’s hand, and she squeezes back without hesitation.

Warmth wells in Yue’s chest.

_I think I’ll be okay._

**Author's Note:**

> the stories yue tells izumi are based off real inuit folklore ! i'd recommend searching them up - some of them are really interesting!!


End file.
